The Hitchhiker's Guide to High School
by jshmael7
Summary: This is an AU where space travel and such is out of the question and the only thing our four favorite characters are trying to survive is the perils of high school, which is very much harder than it looks. For pairings there'll first be Ford/Arthur and Zaphod/Trillian, then Arthur/Fenchurch. Please review!
1. Before the Car- Zaphod

A/N- I love Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy so much I couldn't stand another second without doing something with these amazing characters!

Zaphod Beeblebrox was late. But it was just one of those mornings that you'd have to try and delay everything until the last possible second, just because you didn't want to go to school. Everyone in the world's had at lease one of these mornings. More than a few of us have had at least one a week. And Zaphod had one nearly every day.

School just wasn't really… his thing. He would have very much preferred to have spent the time he 'wasted' in school doing activities such as drinking stolen alcohol or hijacking the careless neighbor's car. Both were illegal, since he didn't have a driver's license and was underage, at eighteen, to be drinking. But those facts made them all the more desirable for Zaphod.

"Zaphod!" called his father, who was actually his step-father no matter how hard the poor man tried to act otherwise.

"I, uh…" Zaphod said back, trying to speak loudly enough that his voice would go through the door, skid across the hall, and slide down the banister to where he was sure it would enter his step-father's ears. "I can hear you calling my name, but what do you want?" He knew, of course, exactly what his step-father wanted, but he just didn't feel like complying currently.

"Get down here!" yelled step-father-trying-to-be-true-father.

Zaphod let his eyeballs look over his pile of notebooks. They'd been given to him by his step-father for school several weeks ago, but this was the first official day of classes and every single one of them was filled with devious plans, sketches for inventions, and even several recipes, the prize one of those being for an entirely new type of alcoholic drink that consisted of a mix of other alcoholic drinks, herbs, and salt. Too bad there wasn't a written up, foolproof (although Zaphod was far from a fool) get-out-of-school-free excuse.

"Zaphod!"

Said ape-descendant got up and went to the bathroom, grabbing a hairbrush as he went. He found it extremely irritating that he had to put the brush down in order to squirt toothpaste onto his toothbrush, and he found it even more irritating when he figured out he wasn't quite coordinated enough to brush his hair (shoulder-length, wavy, golden-brown) and his teeth (pearly white!) at the same time. And at that moment, Zaphod wished for a third arm, and thought how very much quicker it would make his morning routine.

"Ah'mn cawglin, Ahhbur!" Zaphod said through a mouthful of toothpaste. What his brain said was, 'I'm coming, Albert!', but his mouth said it quite differently. Annoying. As an afterthought, he added, "Cwoow yaow ghekkth!" which meant, 'Cool your jets!'

He marveled over how interesting his words sounded when he had that plastic foam-coated thing polishing his lovely teeth, and cackled about how confusing and frustrating it must be for Albert, his step-father, to try and decode it. Of course, one should never even attempt to cackle with a mouth full of toothpaste, and Zaphod was a master cackler, so it wasn't an attempt, it was a 'yes, he just cackled'. And all his toothpaste spontaneously shot out of his mouth and landed on the mirror.

Zaphod sighed. That was what came of cackling with a mouth full of toothpaste and he knew it. At least he didn't have to spit it out in the sink now. He ran the brush though his hair until he was satisfied, and struck a pose. Grinning at the Zaphod in the mirror, Zaphod said, "You look great, you clever first-day-o'-bein'-a-junior, you!" Then he spun on his heel (his fancy, gold embellished, black leather-covered heel), walked across the hall, and slid down the banister, feeling action-packed and very self-centered indeed and thinking what a very great day it might maybe be.

Of course, then the moment was gone because Zaphod had slammed unintentionally (maybe, most likely completely indended-ly) into his step-father and they both crashed to the floor.

What a tremendous start to the first day of school!


	2. Before and on the Bus- Ford

Ford Prefect was on schedule, fully dressed, fully fed, fully prepared… But, of course, Ford's idea of prepared was slightly eccentric compared to someone else's. While their prepared might mean 'papers, sunglasses, shoes, TV guide, etc…', his meant 'as many notebooks as will fit, a bunch of ball point pens, a pack of salted peanuts, and whatever other strange but incredibly useful objects would fit'. But one thing Ford never went without was his towel.

This towel wasn't particularly out of the ordinary, aside from its strange tendency to be in a different place when Ford woke up than where he'd put it before falling asleep in the first place. It was a nice, largish pinkish bath towel. And he'd never gone without it.

And this day, the first day of junior year, was no exception. He trod down the stairs, having washed his face, brushed his teeth, and fixed up his hair. "Mum," he said, to the woman who's raised him.

"Oh, Ford," she breathed. "You look lovely. Now come on, some breakfast?"

"I've already eaten," said Ford. He sat down, prepared to wait for the bus. "Mum, do you think Dad would be proud of me?"

The woman sighed. Now, incidentally, would be a perfect place to interject an explanation about Ford's Dad and his 'Mum'. Ford's father had raised him since he was born, and he hadn't had a mom that he could remember. His father died of a disease Ford didn't understand when Ford was eight, and from then on 'Mum' raised him. In fact, she was his aunt, but how she came to be brought into this mess is another story entirely.

And she answered, "I think so."

Ford smiled, fiddling with the strap on his shoulder.

"Are you sure you don't want something to eat?" asked his mum.

"I don't- I already had some toast," said Ford.

"How?" The woman had always wondered how Ford was always prepared.

The teen shrugged. "Put some bread in the toaster and pulled down the switch. Grabbed it when it was ready, put on butter… you know. That's kind of how everyone has toast." He grinned mischievously.

"You know what I mean," she said. "You've been in your room the whole morning."

Ford nodded. "Ah. That 'how'. I just happen to have a toaster and, you know, a refrigerator and stuff…"

She sighed and smiled. "The bus will be here soon. And Ford, please. Leave the towel here."

"What?" gasped Ford, clutching the ratty pink thing to his chest. "No! I wouldn't be able to survive!"

"Don't you think you're a little… old to be carrying it around all the time?" his mum persisted. "It's like a baby blanket, eventually you have to-"

"It is not like a baby blanket!" cried Ford indignantly. "You try bringing one to work someday and see how much easier life becomes!"

His mum sighed. "Alright, hon. Just… whatever. I love you." She leaned over and kissed the top of his head. "Have fun."

Ford grinned again. "I will." He got up and ran out the door, his satchel bouncing against his leg. He stood outside for several minutes, looking placidly at the birds and wondering what they were so obsessed with as to be going on about it all day.

Soon, the bus rolled around the corner, and Ford hopped on, finding a seat in the back on his own. He sighed. This day had great potential.


	3. Before the Car- Trillian

A/N- So, not everything can be as it is in the book- yup, Random's a dog. But at least she's a very fine dog.

Tricia gave a small smile to everyone at the table. Mum, Dad, Caleb, and Bo. Both of her brothers were younger than she was, and that gave her a lot of bossing rights, but she rarely ever used them. She was a generally passive person.

"Gonna see your boooyfriend?" asked Caleb, drawing the word out far too long. He was going into fifth grade, and he was the most obnoxious person at the table. In fact, he was the most obnoxious person on the block, but that wasn't important.

Tricia sighed. "Yup."

"He's stupid," Caleb said.

"No," Bo input, butting into the conversation. He was going into second grade and was, with no doubt, the sweetest child on the block. "He's nice. I like him, at least. He showed me how to find worms for the chickens."

"He's insane," continued Caleb, intent on being a little piece of fish poop that certain morning.

Tricia couldn't disagree. He was… definitely out there. But she was always one for taking chances.

"Okay, Caleb," said their mum. "That's enough."

The boy in question slumped back into his breakfast cereal with an evil smirk on his smug little face.

Tricia looked up at her parents. "Thanks, guys."

"Hm?" asked her dad.

"Just for… you know, supporting me with all the stuff I do," said Tricia. 'All the stuff' consisted mostly of swim team, track, horseback riding, and rowing. Also all of the accelerated classes she took. "I'm a junior this year and I just wanted to get the gratitude out."

Her mum chuckled. "Aw. You're really growing up. She got a little bit teary eyed, and dabbed at her face with a napkin.

"Mum," said Bo. "Caleb spit out last night's dinner on that one." And he offered up his instead.

Tricia chuckled and elbowed Caleb gently. She did most everything gently. But being Tricia was getting tiring after doing it all summer, and she longed to get back to school, back to her friends, and back to being Trillian.

"…Alright, Tricia?"

"Huh?" asked Tricia, snapping out of her thoughts, which greedily tried to pull her attention back. In her head, she smacked them.

"Just be careful. You don't know what could happen," said her dad.

"Like what?" Tricia asked.

He shrugged. "Drinking. Smoking. Drugs. Sex. Just stay away from those sorts of people, okay?"

Caleb stuck his tongue out. Sex wasn't his favorite breakfast subject. In fact, his favorite breakfast subject was last night's dream.

Tricia nodded. "Okay, Dad. You know I'm careful."

He rubbed her shoulder. "That's my girl."

Tricia beamed. She loved her family, and wouldn't trade them for anything.

Tricia's dog, a collie she'd named Random, trotted under the table and laid its head on her lap. It looked at her with its large amber eyes and tried to send the telepathic message, 'Trill Trill Trill! Trillian, take me for a waaaaaalk!'.

Tricia patted Random's head and said, "Mum, I'm going to run around the block with Random, okay?" She hadn't gotten the telepathic message, it was just a necessary morning ritual and her dog probably really had to pee.

Her mum nodded. "Alright, honey. Just be back by seven, and I'll drive you to school."

Tricia nodded. With that, she got up, clipped Random's leash on, and the two headed out the door.


	4. Before and Mostly on the Bus- Arthur

A/N- I'm going with the movie-verse in the aspect that Arthur's the only one with a British accent, and the Ford's-a-very-huggy-affectionate-friend part. But everything else is book-verse.

_He was moving, so he must have been walking. The problem was, he wasn't. His feet weren't moving, and yet he could control which way he went. He wasn't jogging, or running, or hopping along on one foot. _

_And there was something of a wonderful coolness rushing past his face and blowing his hair this way and that. It was also tugging at his pajamas and one of his slippers had blown off. _

_He felt so tremendously light and airy and… it was the best feeling he'd ever had. Something was spinning past under his feet several hundred meters below him, and there was another something floating past his head. It was white and lovely and when he told himself to go through one, it felt like passing through a misty drizzle. _

_Then it hit him. _

_He, Arthur Phillip Dent, was flying. _

_And the moment he realized that, two things happened at the same time. These things were (a) that he stopped flying and began to plummet towards the ground, and (b) that a voice was yelling at him, 'Get up, stupid! Get up!'_

_Arthur tried to get up. He tried to fly again and get up to where he'd been, but he just kept falling. The ground got nearer and nearer and closer and closer and scarier and scarier until- bam! He smashed into it. _

Arthur shot straight up in bed, gasping for breath. It had just been a dream. And the voice was his sister's. She was standing over him looking very angry indeed.

"Arthur," said Ginger, his sister. "You idiot. I told you to get up, but you didn't. The bus is here, you're going to miss it on your first day. Stupid."

"What?" Arthur exclaimed, jumping out of bed and running past Ginger and towards the door. He couldn't miss the bus on his first day of junior year, his first day of school at the school which he was going to attend, and his first day of school in the United States.

His mum caught him just before he made it out and kissed the top of his head. "Oh, Arthur. You're still in your dressing gown."

"Don't have time, Mum," Arthur said testily, and raced out the door. He ran, and caught the bus just in time.

Arthur walked nervously and slowly down the bus aisle, glancing at the other students, all of whom were regarding him with something like contempt.

Then, someone decided it might be fun to trip him. And they did, and it turned out to be even more fun than they thought it would be.

Arthur winced as he picked himself up off the ground, and grabbed the back of someone's seat because the bus began to move. He went on and on down the aisle, and there were no seats. At the very end, the very last seat, there was a vacancy.

It school busses like this one, there were two seats on each side of the aisle, and another two in front of them, and another two, and so on. Also, the two seats were conjoined and they were actually like a hard, foamy, fake-leather-covered, uncomfortable sofa.

And the vacancy seat's one occupant was a guy with ginger hair that stuck up. It looked, to Arthur, like his head was on fire. The guy was hunched over, looking through one of the notebooks that he'd piled up in the vacant spot.

"Erm," Arthur nervously said, clearing his throat.

The guy looked up. "Oh, go right ahead," he said, his voice packed with optimism, and he pulled the notebooks onto his own lap.

"Thanks," said Arthur, with a relieved sigh.

The guy was making unabashed eye contact and smiling. "I love your accent. You're obviously new to J. R. High, because I don't know you."

"Err, yeah," Arthur said, finding the grin the guy was grinning very disconcerting. "I mean, yes, I'm new here." He tasted something vaguely irony and salty and shuddered. He knew the taste, but he couldn't place it.

The guy reached into his little satchel and pulled out a ratty looking pink towel. With it he touched Arthur's lips. He said, "You have a…"

Arthur realized that the taste was blood. He must have gotten a bloody lip when that bastard, whoever he was, had tripped him and his face slammed into the ground.

The guy shoved the towel away.

"Thanks," murmured Arthur again. "I'm Arthur. Arthur Dent."

"Great," said the guy, grinning that grin. "I'm Ford Prefect!"

They shook hands, which was very hard and awkward because they were sitting next to each other.

"What's that notebook?" asked Arthur, hoping that by the time they reached the school he'd have at least one person on his side.

"Oh," said Ford, with a shrug. "It's just the latest part of the most important thing you'll ever read."

"And what's the most important thing I'll ever read?" continued Arthur.

"My own creation," Ford said, grinning crazily. "_The Hitchhiker's Guide to High School._"


	5. School at Last

Ford led Arthur through the halls, waving here and there to other people. He seemed to know everything about everything, and he was happy to share this knowledge with Arthur.

A teacher showed Arthur to his new locker and left them, going of to have a cup of coffee before having to deal with crazy teenagers.

"So!" Ford said, bouncing up and down in excitement. He was a rather short guy, and his satchel looked stuffed to the point where its seams would break. Some of them already had. "Aren't you going to open it?"

"Err, yeah," Arthur said, looking down at the piece of paper with the combination on it he had in his hand. He carefully put it into the lock and heard a click.

Ford leaned closer.

"Why do you want to see me open my locker?" asked Arthur, glancing down at Ford.

Ford shrugged. "What if there's something inside?"

"There's not going to be-" began Arthur. He stopped because he'd opened the locker and there was something inside. "Oh."

"Yeah!" exclaimed Ford, pulling out the something. It was a notebook. "I'd forgotten all about this!"

"You knew?" asked Arthur, glaring.

"Of course!" Ford looked up excitedly. "I put it there!"

Arthur sighed, feeling very very confused. "You… you did?"

Ford nodded. "Last year, I-"

"Ford!" called a voice from the crowded hallway behind them.

Both Ford and Arthur whipped around. The voice had come from a guy who looked like he thought he was way cooler than he was. His hair nearly reached his shoulders, and he was wearing sunglasses and a long weird looking overcoat.

"Zaphod!" Ford called back, grinning like a maniac. It was this particular grin he'd perfected to make people who knew him know he was excited and make people who didn't know him very disturbed.

The name took Arthur by surprise. Who in their right mind would call their child Zaphod?

"Hey Zaphod, this is Arthur," said Ford, running over and giving Zaphod and the girl under Zaphod's arm a hug.

"Arthur, huh?" asked Zaphod, peering over his sunglasses. "C'mere, kid."

Arthur nervously stepped forwards. He didn't really like the looks of this Zaphod guy. He did, however, like the looks of the girl who was now chatting with Ford.

"Hehe, Ford, where'd you pick up this kid?" Zaphod asked, grinning the same grin Ford was wearing.

Ford shrugged. "Found him on the floor of the bus."

"Okay," Arthur said, sick of them talking about him like he wasn't there. "First off, I was tripped by some… some guy and second off if you're talking about me could you at least include me in your little conversation?"

"Feisty," muttered Zaphod. "Okay, kid. I'm Zaphod. Zaphod Beeblebrox." He flashed a pearly white smile.

"And stop calling me 'kid'!" exclaimed Arthur indignantly.

"Okay, okay!" said Zaphod, holding his hands up in surrender. "Arthur, this is Trillian." He pointed at the girl.

"Err, Trillian?" Arthur repeated. Really, what was with the names here?

"Yep," Trillian confirmed. "Hi Arthur."

"Just- Just one question," Arthur said. "Before we continue, why is everyone named all… weird?"

"Weird?" Zaphod asked. "Oh. I don't know what my daddy was thinking when he decided to call me Zaphod. But I like it. It has a certain… presidential ring to it, don't you think?"

Arthur very much wanted to say, 'not to me, it doesn't', but he didn't want to make any enemies on his first day. "Yeah. A bit."

Trillian laughed. "Trillian's not my real name. I was just so fed up with being normal calling myself something you didn't hear everyday made me feel better."

"That's really cool," Arthur said. He decided that he liked Ford, didn't like Zaphod, and liked Trillian very much. And, with a deep breath, braced himself for the first bell.


End file.
